


Oskar and Max

by Anne_Fairchild



Category: Vienna Blood (TV)
Genre: Caretaking, Compromise, Contentment, Love Confessions, M/M, Tenderness, mush, musings, watchdogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27550030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne_Fairchild/pseuds/Anne_Fairchild
Summary: In their private thoughts, Oskar and Max muse on how their relationship began, its slightly bumpy road, and their deepest feelings for each other.
Relationships: Max Liebermann/Oskar Rheinhardt
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	Oskar and Max

**Author's Note:**

> My feelings about what makes Max and Oskar tick, and how and why they fit so well together. Two people who need each other and were lucky enough to find each other, work at a relationship, and also find happiness.

_Oskar_

It took longer than I like to remember to allow myself to relax into the life I share with Max. I know it must have been difficult for him too, but as usual he seldom if ever expressed it. Those who know him as a police consultant would laugh at the idea of Max Liebermann as patient, yet with me he is always patient and kind, except when I frighten him. Then, he's sharper, more urgent, and I see and feel his fear for me. I usually try to do as he asks, because I don't want to cause him worry or pain. I love him.

Without me even being aware, it started early. Because he's so observant, he began to sense when I was worried, tired, not feeling well, or when my bones ached. He was there when life was not kind and I needed kindness even as I rejected it. I believed it to be a sign of weakness and loss of control I could not show. I wasn't sure then whether it was because he saw into me and understood, or if it was simply because _he_ wanted so badly to give and to have someone to take care of. Now, I know it's both.

Max is who he is, and his talent is seeing inside people, so of course he could read me, whether I liked it or not. I'm still not crazy about it, but it's Max. If we spent a very long day on the trail of someone or something, whether we walked, drove or sometimes ran and even jumped, he wouldn't let me go home without being sure that I was fed at the very least, but it was more often a relaxing dinner which included alcohol. I didn't like that he was always paying the bill either, but he had a way of doing it that you couldn't really stay angry with.

I began to notice at these times that he was always at my elbow after such a day, especially when getting in and out of a cab, going up or down stairs, or just spending a long time standing, especially when dealing with the harangues of von Bülow or Strasser. It made me angry, and I told him so directly. Did he think I was an unsteady old man, too feeble for my job? What would they think? If I saw it, so would they. He was calm, and only slightly apologetic, and of course he continued in his behavior. He was sending me a silent message - I'll catch you if you stumble or fall. I'm here with you. To the others, his message was 'I have his back, gentlemen. You're dealing with both of us.' At a certain point, after we began sharing a bed and our lives, it started to give me the warm feeling it gives me now every day. He is truly here for me in all things and he's not going anywhere. The gesture and the emotion behind it squeeze my heart. I love him.

He is of course appropriately reserved in public. We don't touch. We are formal with each other and we don't share smiles. But when we have privacy, whether it's in a closed carriage or in the house, Max becomes someone no one knows, perhaps not even his own family. He needs to touch, and to be touched. He's quick to offer physical affection and soothing words, and enjoys receiving them as much as he gives them. He's tender and gentle, and so loving.

This was the most difficult thing I had to learn, to accept all that Max wants to give me. I did not grow up with this, nor did I experience it even in my marriage. Else tried, but like me she never felt able to let all her feelings out. We existed in a bubble of measured, appropriate gestures. That simply isn't possible with Max. You learn not only to accept his love, but to free yourself enough to return it in kind. I'll never be as easy with it as Max is, but I give him what he needs, I hope. Because I love him as much as he loves me.

What has surprised me most is his discovery of physical passion, and it astonishes me that he feels this for _me._ What he sees in this middle-aged, out of shape body I don't know, I'm only glad he does see it. He makes me feel like a man of thirty, and I enjoy every second of our lovemaking - before, during, and after. He makes the after very special. I am completely his then, and I no longer fight feeling so vulnerable because I _am_ vulnerable _,_ but I trust him. The nights when, as he says, he 'loses himself' in me are very special for both of us. The trust goes both ways and that's special too.

We are, as the saying goes, like an old married couple now. If he thinks I'm ill, hurting with aches and pains or just sad, he will take over everything. He'll feed me, undress me, put me to bed, give me medicine and lie with me, hold me, and let me know he loves me. How I used to fight that, and what a fool I was for doing so. And yes, I do the same for him of course and it gives me pleasure also, so I know a little how he must feel. Men don't do or say these things, that was my experience. Thank God for Max, who knows now, I hope, how much I love him.

_Max_

I felt his sorrow, his unhappiness, from the first day we were together. So abrasive, so gruff and sarcastic, all to disguise his loss and his fear. Yes, because of my studies I had learned to 'read' people, but I had never before wanted to know and help the person I observed in a way so personal to me. Oskar mattered to me in a way no one else had to that point in my life. I was shocked at how quickly it happened. How almost instantly Clara faded into the background and my waking and sleeping thoughts were all of him. I didn't know whether I was falling in love or in lust. I only knew for certain that my thoughts and dreams of him were far more intense and controlling of my emotions and actions than my feelings for Clara had ever been. Was it because I was meant to fall in love with another man, and not a woman?

I was determined, but I wasn't as sure as I wanted to believe I was that I could get close enough to Oskar for him to let me in. We all have emotional trauma, battle scars. Some of his I'll never know, one I do, and others I can only guess at. But whether I ever understand everything about his feelings or his past, I know I love him.

He was so prickly, I had to go slow. Baby steps. But gradually he relaxed a little and stopped fighting me. When I began to feel his acceptance, it lightened my heart - that's the only way I can describe it. A heart some believed I didn't have, and to be honest, I wasn't sure either. I like looking after him. I think no one has ever looked after him properly, with real affection. I can see he doesn't believe he deserves it. Hopefully, I'm convincing him otherwise, little by little. He's worked hard all his life. It makes me angry that he hasn't been able to take things a bit easier at this point, and I mean to be sure he does, outside of his job at least. He deserves to enjoy life, without being in charge or responsible all the time. He has me now.

He knows my secrets. Away from my work I can be emotional and embarrassingly child-like when I trust someone, as Leah knows. He doesn't reject this in me, he embraces it. He keeps me more at peace than I ever remember being. He can calm my anger or despair just by being there. Talking, reasoning, holding me. His voice soothes me. I feel him throughout my body when he speaks to me. I'm not alone when he's there. I don't mean just physically, he's my emotional peace. The world isn't on my shoulders when he's with me.

At the same time, I have never felt that Oskar sees me as anything less than a man, an equal in his world. Except when we didn't really know each other, he has never patronized me, or tried to make me feel inexperienced or inferior in anything, even when I am. I face scorn and ridicule daily, but from him, never. Even when we barely knew each other and he thought me a pest, he respected me, as I respect him. He would deny it, but he's my teacher as much as I might be his. He makes me feel like a man in all ways.

Being in love with him and physically attracted to him was overwhelming at first. I'd never felt that way about anyone, and that it should be with another man was something I hadn't imagined. It was both exciting and frightening. If I wasn't a complete innocent, I was certainly not experienced in lovemaking. He was patient with me, and tender. It must have been difficult for him, but he never frightened me or hurt me. That someone could make another person feel the way Oskar makes me feel when he touches me, when his low, rumbling voice murmurs what he's going to do to me, with me…. There are times now, when we're apart, that just thinking of him, hearing his voice in my head, I can almost come for wanting him. It's still shocking, this power he has over me. He knows, because how could he not? I let him see. I want him to see. It makes him happy, and it makes me happy too.

Oskar's house - our house now - is my refuge. Inside this simple, cozy place there are no expectations, no standards to uphold, and no judgments. There is no caring what anyone thinks. There is only Oskar and me, a cozy fire to lie before together, and this bed which is the place where nothing can touch us and there is only love. Some nights, flowing into daylight, I don't want to ever leave it and I know he feels the same. We are what we need, nothing more nor less. Sometimes the perfection of it overwhelms me, and an unnamed fear creeps in. Somehow, he knows. He'll curl himself around me, warming my heart as much as my body, and tell me it will be all right. And for that moment in time it is. God, how I love him.

***

A shutter banged sharply in the wind. Max started awake to see rain lashing against the window, and shivered. With a reluctant sigh, knowing how much Oskar hated to do it, he crept silently out of bed to turn on the radiator and put water on for coffee and then returned, freezing, to the bed. Oskar's arms enveloped him, warm and familiar.

How sweet he is, Oskar smiled to himself, feeling the warmth of Max's breath against his neck, knowing they would both drift back to sleep a while, then wake and make slow, gentle love before facing the day together. _I love him._

Max sighed again, this time in contentment, pressing a soft kiss to his lover's throat. _He loves me._


End file.
